Page 21 of The Innocent Sleep

I slowed, continuing onward with caution. If this was all illusion, I might be able to see through it by focusing my attention on the elements that seemed out of true, but what would be the advantage in that? Everyone around me would still be enthralled, and the royal cat’s ability to see through such twisted reflections doesn’t give us the ability to dispel them. Better that I see and be able to interact with the world as they saw it.

Especially since Titania’s wards were no illusion. If I disbelieved a wall hard enough to stop seeing it, I still might not be able to pass through the space it occupied. I needed to see this world as Titania had made it, as much as possible, anyway, even if I refused to believe it in any aspect.

The woods were denser than I remembered them being, less cultivated and more permitted to grow as they liked. I moved between feline and bipedal form as I walked, shifting according to the cover the trees allowed, keeping myself as inobtrusive as possible.

At last, the shape of the great manor of Shadowed Hills appeared ahead of me. The trees grew so close to the walls that a bad storm would have been enough to do substantial structural damage, their branches overhanging the roof and making the darkness of the Duchy’s name far more literal than it had ever been before. I settled myself once more in bipedal form, suppressing the feline elements of my nature with as much force as I could muster, until the black stripes vanished from my hair and my field of vision changed, ever so slightly, to signal my pupils becoming entirely round.

In this guise, I could pass for Daoine Sidhe, albeit a very blandly colored example of the breed. I have sometimes wondered if Titania didn’t set that line above all others in her regard because they came the closest to looking precisely like she did. The only thing about them that deviated in any way from a very simple and precise design was their coloring, which ran up one side of the rainbow and down the other. They were otherwise all but indistinguishable from half a dozen other descendant lines.

That train of thought led to the unsettling conclusion that her hatred of shapeshifters—the Cait Sidhe, the Cu Sidhe, the Reynardine—stemmed in part from the fact that many of us looked like Daoine Sidhe when we chose to have thumbs. How dare we pretend at being a part of her favorite creation!

In this instance, however, the pretense would suit me well. If I was found wandering outside the knowe, I would be assumed to be a stranger seeking hospitality or employment. My current appearance could easily suit either narrative. I was scruffy enough to need both a hot meal and a way to feed myself going forward.

I approached the wall, looking up to the rail around the high promenade that served as a gathering place during outdoor events. I had been to a few parties which took place on that very balcony, moving through crowds of people who mattered to me only in the sense that they mattered to October, trying to avoid letting my disdain for the man she called “liege” show. In the Divided Courts, titles are handed out like crackers at a dinner: far too many are hereditary rather than earned.

The Court of Cats doesn’t always get things right, with people like my own father standing as stark illustration of that fact, but we title only those who have the power to support and protect our people, and we make every effort to be sure those who are titled understand their role and responsibilities. No King or Queen of Cats worthy of the name would ever treat one of their subjects as Sylvester had treated October.

October was his niece. Even before she had known that Faerie considered Simon her father, Sylvester had been aware; he had been the brother of her mother’s husband, and he understood the custom as well as anyone. He should have treated her like family. Instead, he’d behaved as if she was an amusing pet, worthy of food and a bed and a small amount of favor but not the consideration she should have been granted from the beginning. She might forgive him for that; if I knew her as well as I believed I did, she was well on the way to forgiveness. I never would.

Something moved behind me. I turned, and saw a group of Sylvester’s guards coming around the corner, dressed in proper ducal livery, Sir Etienne at their head. The sight of him caused me to relax, slightly. He had been responsible for October’s education in the knightly arts, when she’d first been granted her own title, and had always been an ally, if occasionally a reluctant one. Speaking to him would help me determine precisely how deep Titania’s—

“Halt, stranger,” he said, giving me a quelling look that held no spark of recognition. “Identify yourself and your business here.”

Well, question answered. “My name is Rand,” I said, spreading my hands as I fully faced him, straightening my position as much as I could to be sure I wouldn’t look like I was preparing for any sort of lunge or attack. “I was . . . My wife has disappeared, and I had some hope that I might find her here, as she has spoken of this household in the past.”

“We’ve had no new arrivals in several weeks, and Moving Day is as yet months from now,” he said. “Did you give her cause to flee you? My liege would ill appreciate it if I gave a man who abuses his wife any excuse to claim the hospitality of this house.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” I said. “We have been content since our marriage. Her cousin has recently come to live with us for a year’s term, and we’re expecting our first child. Her disappearance was not her choice, and I very much want to find her and bring her home.”

“From where do you hail?”

It seemed simpler to avoid lying to him as much as possible. “I hail originally from Londinium,” I said.

“That explains the accent. And more recently?”

“I live in the mortal city of San Francisco, within the protectorate of Goldengreen,” I said, following the same principle: Goldengreen was the closest demesne to the home October and I shared, and one with which I was intimately familiar.

He frowned. “Why are you here, and not laying your concerns at the feet of Countess Winterrose?”

Oh. Oh, no. I should probably have expected that, if the false Queen was back; why shouldn’t all the worst people we’d ever known have returned at the same time? Still, on some level, I suppose I had expected it. After all, I was running out of ways for this to get worse.

“The Countess has never been overly receptive to concerns she feels beneath her,” I said, hoping this version of Evening would have at least that much in common with the woman I knew. If she didn’t, this world had been remade to such a degree that I couldn’t imagine how it was meant to function.

Etienne’s expression softened. “It’s true—she rarely wants to hear from people she doesn’t feel have earned the honor of her presence. I suppose you haven’t properly flattered or tithed to her?”

“Not so’s I’ve ever noticed.” I shrugged, trying to look hapless. “Her ways are beyond me. But my lady always spoke well of Shadowed Hills, and I suppose I hoped there might be a way to entreat audience with Duke Torquill and ask him for his aid.”

“Did your lady have some ties here?” asked Etienne, innocently.

“Not as such,” I said, telling my first true lie. “But she had heard of the duchy’s nature, and the generosity of its regent.”

Etienne nodded, mercifully accepting this as truth. “The Duke is always glad to help a traveler,” he said. “But it’s more customary to come around the front, via the gates, than to skulk around the back of the place. There’s nothing beyond here but the swamp, the briars, and the Lady Amandine’s tower. She’d not thank you for coming too close to her daughters, and the Duke would not soon forgive you for startling his nieces.”

“Nieces?” I asked.

“Yes. His brother, Simon, dwells yonder with his wife and their two daughters, August and October.” Etienne’s softness died. “You must know him, as he’s the right-hand man and dogsbody of the Countess Winterrose. It strains credulity to think that anyone could live within her lands and not know Simon Torquill.”

October’s name was ringing in my ears, making it difficult to concentrate. I wanted to step into the shadows and be immediately away. I also wanted to be able to return here if necessary, especially with October so nearby. If I was unable to retrieve her immediately, this would be my most likely sanctuary, and what I said next could easily sour it.